Image: Disturnell, John. Mapa de los Estados Unidos de Méjico: segun lo organizado y definido por las varias actas del congreso de dicha républica y construido por las mejores autoridades. New York: J. Disturnell, 1847. Map. Public domain via the Library of Congress.
Although Lady Liberty is depicted as the “Mother of Exiles”, not all exiles are equal in the eyes of the US government. This gallery focuses on groups excluded from American society and denied the benefits of full American citizenship due to racialized immigration and other public policies, especially in borderlands. By depicting the perspective of these contested citizens, this gallery critically interrogates American immigration policy and investigates the liminal spaces it creates. Drawing from racially segregated urban geographies, internment camps, detainment centers, and Angel Island, these pieces follow stories of Americans unjustly stripped of their civil and human rights.
Sonia Kelly-Manning
Collage, 2020
Artist's Statement: My collage references the hypocrisy of the US in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a time when national leaders situated immigration as an essential element of the American nation while also excluding particular groups based on racial fears and stereotypes. The Statue of Liberty, a symbol of the hope and opportunity of the American dream, was dedicated in 1886, a mere four years after the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. It is located near Ellis Island, where many European immigrants were welcomed to the US, while immigrants from Asia were specifically excluded. This exclusion was intentional, an attempt to create a homogenous, white nation while cultivating the perception of the US as the “mixing pot” of global immigrants. In this regard, the US in the 20th century is not unlike nations in South America, such as Brazil, which, upon emancipation of most of its population of enslaved Africans in 1888, aimed to “Europeanize” and “whiten” that population to position itself as an advanced and prosperous nation.
My image includes the Statue of Liberty against the ocean and sky. In her shadow, there is a collage incorporating a variety of mediums and techniques: photographs, both of Chinese immigrants as workers and in their likely self-commissioned portraits; virulent newsprint posters and clippings; black pencil; pen and ink and watercolor--these latter two paying homage to the Chinese artistic style of ink wash painting, rendering visible the presence and influence of Chinese culture in the United States. The collage is meant to both embody the Chinese Exclusion Act and tell the story of Chinese immigrants, a narrative that was left out of textbooks and the media during this time, and mostly since then. The photographs portray Chinese railroad workers, well-dressed Chinese male immigrants, and Chinese immigrant families, while the posters scream a different message. By juxtaposing portraits and posters, I aim to humanize those subjected to racist slander and xenophobia and show the actual faces of those targeted by legislation. My hope is that this image makes viewers reflect not only on the significance of the Chinese Exclusion Act and its lasting implications today, but also to think more critically about the history of the US and the use of similar policies to exclude certain groups from the benefits of American citizenship.
Kavya Nayak
Digital book, 2020
Artist's Statement: I focus on Dr. Seuss because his work is one of the most powerful and widespread influences on children’s worldviews, including my own. In doing so, I created a sequel to The Sneetches, one of Dr. Seuss’s books on equality, to discuss Japanese internment for a child audience in his own style.
Through his imaginative characters and alien worlds, Dr. Seuss taught moral stories that could be accessed and appreciated by children and adults alike. However, many are unaware of Dr. Seuss’s earlier political cartoons, which strongly influenced his children’s books both in style and substance. Though much of his work preaches equality and acceptance, his political work was extremely racist towards the Japanese and contributed to a false image of Japanese Americans.
During the course of World War II, Japanese-Americans faced strong challenges to their citizenship and loyalty as Americans throughout the process of internment. Dr. Seuss’s cartoons stoked fears that they were spies and enemy combatants, when in reality they had nothing to do with the bombing of Pearl Harbor or the war. Interestingly enough, only Japanese-Americans who were interned during the war, not German-Americans (like Dr. Seuss himself) or Italian-Americans. Internment is a great example of how racialized citizenship may be -- and how fear and “other”-ing can result in such an extreme loss of civil rights.
I try through this visual project to rethink Dr. Seuss’s depiction of the Japanese before and after the war, and how his work shaped the American imagination of Japanese-Americans, itself often a culmination of their historical treatment of the non-white other, using borrowed terminology from past conquests. Dr. Seuss did not create these connotations, but he put images alongside them and used his fantastical characters to aggrandize these “racial war words."[1] My own Sneetches mini-book is a counter-narrative about Japanese internment—same style, different intent.
[1] Dower, John. War Without Mercy: Race and Power In the Pacific War. New York: Pantheon Books, 1993. https://hdl-handle-net.revproxy.brown.edu/2027/heb.02403. Accessed 13 Dec 2020.
Gabriela Treviño
Multimedia tryptic, 2020
Artist's Statement: My multimedia tryptic Border/Borders/Bordered is a visual exploration of the
concept of the “border” and how it has functioned and currently functions across concrete, abstract, intellectual, and ideological terrains in the United States of America. Focusing on the literal and metaphorical Mexico/US border to illustrate these relationships, the piece prompts the viewer to think about the ways in which borders construct and distort land, societies, relationships, and thought processes. The “border” works in several dimensions throughout the piece: the literal border (gold frames), the ideological border (who is included in the American narrative and how), the geographical border (how land has been separated and why), and the social border (who or what is
prioritized in American society and why).
Though each of the pieces has a story born of reflection and reading, I will recount just one. On January 28, 1948 a plane carrying twenty-eight Mexican farm workers who were being deported by the government and four white crew members from the fields of California back to Mexico crashed in Los Gatos Canyon in Coalinga, California. Everyone aboard died on impact. Newspapers across the country ran some variation of the headline that 28 bracero workers had died in the crash. After the fiery crash, the families of the four white crew members were alerted that their loved ones had passed. The bodies of the twenty-eight Mexicans were buried in an unmarked grave, with no officials attempting to contact their families in Mexico.[1] I first learned about this occurrence upon hearing the song “Deportees (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)” by Woody Guthrie a few years ago.[2] My breath caught in my throat as I listened to the lyric, “Who are these dear friends who are falling like dry leaves?/ Radio said they’re just ‘deportees.’ " Until scholar Tim Hernandez pieced together the names of the passengers and contacted their families seven decades after the crash, those families had no idea what happened to their loved ones. They never had the dignity of being named, they were just “deportees.” As someone who’s family worked in the fields for decades, I couldn’t help but ponder that any of the workers on that plane could have been my family members.
[1] Hernandez, T. All They Will Call You. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2017.
[2] Guthrie, W. Plane Wreck at Los Gatos (Deportee). Martin Hoffman. 1948.